


Ingrained Bonds

by AbleBookkeeper757



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Best Friends Forever, F/M, Family, Gen, Murder, funeral speech, genre fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:21:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25155382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbleBookkeeper757/pseuds/AbleBookkeeper757
Summary: Funerals are never easy, especially when you have to give a speech about the deceased.
Relationships: Alina Rayner/Corey West, Elain Rayner/Hank Rayner, Emily Carrol/?





	Ingrained Bonds

Emily wakes up long before her normal alarm rings. It’s far too early, and the faltering light available at this hour peers weakly into her darkened room through the cracks in her curtain. She tosses and turns under thin blankets with her eyes tightly shut for a while, trying futilely to have just a few more minutes of sleep. But upon checking the clock, Emily groans as the artificial glare of the numbers tell her that it’s most definitely useless to try to fall asleep now.   
Damp covers are left dangling carelessly off the bed, as she pads into the bathroom, shivering when her feet touch the unheated floor. She hasn’t risen yet from that half-asleep phase and mutters insults under her breath towards her internal clock, and any other possible agent that had conspired to give her the frankly ridiculous rising. Leaning into the smudged mirror, she prods at the new dark circles starting to swell beneath her eyes. She ponders ruefully with a yawn on just how late she had been up the previous night.  
She pauses though, mouth still open, upon seeing the stained calendar pinned to the wall behind her. Today is circled in red, with a few barely legible notes detailing exactly why her sleep was restless. ‘Funeral at 8:30, don’t forget to come up with a speech!’ Emily sighs as her eyes cast back into the bedroom, where she can see the blinking light of her computer underneath the pile of blankets, instead of being on the desk next to a torn envelope and the mailed testament; it had been a gift and is quite frankly the newest object in her small apartment. It’s still plugged into the wall.   
Feeling her hair clinging limply to the back of her sweat-soaked neck, Emily decides that she’d rather freshen up a bit by taking a shower, before going down whatever rabbit hole awaits her on the screen.

Leaving the bathroom with hair thrown up in a towel, Emily picks through her open closet, searching for anything that she can match together as a decent outfit; she eventually decides on a little dark gray number that has a few loose threads, but they’re easy enough to fix. Sliding it on, she also removes a few balls of lint sticking to the fabric. Perfect. Mostly dressed with damp hair, she turns her attention back to the awaiting laptop; she now also notices a few beer cans strewn across the floor, which explains the dent in her memory from last night.   
It lets out a beep when she presses a button, and the screen flickers back to life on the tab she had left open, Burialplanning.com; she has trouble resisting the urge to laugh at the name. Emily scrolls idly down the page that contains various posts about the do’s and don'ts of funeral etiquette, most of which pertain to wearing black, and absolutely never saying anything along the lines of ‘they’re in a better place now’ or ‘I know how you feel’; neither of which she had been planning on saying anyways. Finally, though, there’s another small comment about what should be said during a eulogy; this time, the poster talked about sharing stories about the deceased and being honest.   
Well, Emily thinks to herself, I don’t think honesty is the best policy when it comes to my situation. But stories, I think I can tell a story easy enough. But what to say about Alina? 

The funeral home that the family had chosen was quaint, for a lack of a better word. There was nothing overly special visible from the outside of the building, besides the obligatory handicapped access ramp. However, any regular citizen out for a walk at this time of day would almost certainly have done a double-take, if only due to the mass of cars that had been fitted awkwardly into the small lot behind the building, some of which were far above the average buying ability of the area. Thankfully, Emily had instead decided to leave her car at the neighboring park, saving her the hassle of trying to fit another piece into the worst puzzle ever called parking, and giving her some time to breathe in the cold winter morning air and wake up a bit more.  
Moving her way past those still outside on the porch, Emily discards her flimsy coat on the waiting rack and then makes her way over to the front of the main room. There were people here that she didn’t recognize, and plenty more that she did, but only from them being on the news. She even spotted a few minor celebrities that she had recently seen on the front pages of the drug store’s magazine selection. She couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride at that. Alina always did have a way with people, and what a crowd it was.  
“Emily!”   
She stops eying up a celebrity whom she remembers being in one of those box office hits from a few years ago, she knows his name is Cory, to look for who had called her name.   
“Hey, Mrs. Rayner.”   
“I was about to call you to make sure you came early. The director wasn’t prepared to have this many people show up, and now we’re running out of seats for everyone! Thank goodness we still have a little while before the service starts.  
Hank and the boys ran to grab as many chairs as they can carry back-but don’t worry dear, we already saved you a seat!” She gestures to the small row of seats at the front of the room.  
Elain Rayner is a small woman with graying hair, smiling wrinkles, and the ability to talk the color off of paint.   
Emily smiles as wide as her mouth lets her.  
“Thank you, though I would have been fine with standing up.”  
“Oh, nonsense. You’re practically family, after all-I mean with how close you and Alina ar-.” She pauses for a moment, before continuing, quieter. “Were, I mean. I suppose that I have to start getting used to that now, what with all of this.”  
Emily places a hand on her shoulder and feels her face change to something more sympathetic.  
“I haven’t gotten used to it myself, to be honest. I keep expecting her to show up and everything to go back to normal.”  
Mrs. Rayner smiles back at her, with shiny but not yet tearful eyes.  
“You always were a good friend to Alina, Emily.” She pauses again. Taking in Emily’s outfit for the first time. A look of confusion crosses over her face before she focuses on her neck.  
“Why...look at that! You’re even wearing that necklace she gave you! The one with the match-.” There’s the sound of a horn outside, and her head whips around to where the front door is hidden behind throngs of people. “That would be Hank with the chairs. You go ahead and sit down, dear, I’ll wrangle a few more people to bring them in.” With that, she scurries off; audibly apologizing after each occasional bump into others.  
Emily watches as Mrs. Rayner hurries past the photo tribute, her eyes settling on it before she rips them away. She resolutely turns her back to it, takes a deep breath, and forces herself to try and mingle with the crowd as the minutes tick down.

She can definitely feel a headache coming on as the last of the brothers finishes his little speech, tears dripping down from his eyes onto his rented suit. Emily finds herself fixing the nuances of her outfit, adjusting this and that in order to look as different from him as she can manage; the shoddy necklace stays untouched. She goes and stands at the head of the room next to the coffin, and gently clears her throat. Showtime.  
“I find it difficult to stand before you today. Alina was my dearest friend, and I will miss her greatly. We grew up close, close enough to be mistaken as sisters by strangers; yet we couldn’t be more different now. Alina was one of those ‘wonder women’ that come about once a decade; as you all know, she was a genius, beautiful, and full of empathy for others. And, to be honest,” Emily pauses here for a moment, “the world has gotten a little darker for me without her here.”   
She bows her head, hair shadowing her face; she bites her own tongue, and the tears pool into her eyes. “I just hope and pray that whoever dared to take her from us, will soon get what is coming to them, if they haven’t already.” Emily makes a few sobbing sounds. “I-Excuse me please!” She carefully rushes off towards where the bathroom is, having scouted it out earlier. The room is silent as she leaves until the next person steps up to speak.

Emily closes the door behind her, locks it, and then moves to the sink mirror; she checks whether or not she had smudged her makeup. There are no smudges though, so she makes a few with her finger and then rubs her eyes a few times. She then washes off her hands. Someone knocks on the door.  
“Dear, are you in there?”   
Perfect. Emily opens the door to a concerned Mrs. Rayner and speaks with choking sobs.  
“I can’t do this, Mrs. Rayner. It’s-It’s too much, I need to go-.”  
“It’s alright dear. To be honest, I’m not sure why I’m not in the same state as you.” She clears her throat. “Thank you for speaking, Emily. I’m sure Alina would appreciate you having been here, but you go home and rest, and call me if you need anything.” She winks. “Especially when you get that boy of your dreams.”  
“He isn’t mine yet, Mrs. Rayner. But I’ll let you know when it happens.” Emily makes a weak smile that placates Mrs. Rayner, and the older woman heads back into the funeral. Emily watches her go, and, after checking for any other stragglers, walks calmly to the coat rack. She reaches up to her neck and easily snaps the necklace chain, before throwing it into the nearby trash can where it belongs, and grabs her thin coat.   
Before she leaves, she chances a look back. Cory, Alina’s now ex-fiance, is speaking now, but is facing towards the family and didn’t notice her. Typical, though fine for the time being. Her eyes drift to the coffin. It had been a closed casket, as the rest of the body was never recovered, only her hand. And, against the hopes of everyone else, Emily knew the rest of it would never be found.   
She had buried it too deep for that.

**Author's Note:**

> One of the works I found and dusted off in my drive.  
> Thank you so much for reading, and if possible, I would love constructive criticism!


End file.
